Second Star to the Right : A 'Peter Pan' Story
by EmilyVsTheMachine
Summary: Neverland never was the same after Wendy left. Peter left to Earth to find her, making Neverland and its inhabitants age. Now, mermaids are on the brink of extinction, fairies are long gone, the Lost Boys are forced into hiding, and pirates rule over Neverland. Now that Peter has found Wendy, will they be able to save Neverland from it's terrible fate?
1. Prologue

**Prologue: **A Choice

_ "You know you could stay if you wanted to. You would never have to think about grown-up stuff ever again. You'd never have to grow up, only if you stayed." Peter pleaded, kicking a pebble across his path with his bare feet. His eyes remained on a small patch of moss next to his foot for he couldn't bring himself to watch the girl that stood in-front of him, her two younger brothers standing behind her._

_ "Peter," Wendy went over to him, taking his face in both of her hands and making his gaze meet hers. "I have to go back. Mother and father would-"_

_ "Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all! What do they know about anything?!" He roared, tearing himself out of Wendy's gentle grasp as he escaped behind a leaning willow tree. He took out his knife and began sharpening a stick that had been tucked away in the bough of the trunk, trying his best to ignore everything around him._

_ He didn't understand how someone wouldn't want to be a kid forever; no worries, no cares, and no responsibilities was all he knew, and she wanted to give it all up to go back to her parents. She wanted to trade in all this freedom that he could give her for two grown-ups who had forgotten what it's like to be a kid, who had forgotten what it's like to live. They were all dull and lifeless, Peter had resolved that a long time ago, and didn't deserve to be trusted. He didn't want Wendy to become one of them, to lose all of the things that made her Wendy. If she went back to the grown-ups, in Peter's eyes, she would be lost forever._

_ "Peter, please." Wendy sat in front of him, trying to get Peter's attention by poking his dirty toes. "I need to go back to England. It's where I belong."_

_ "No it's not!" He threw his knife down on the ground in frustration. "You belong here, where you'll never change and never, never grow up. Forget England and just stay, Wendy. Please."_

_ Wendy looked at this lost boy, fresh tears rimming his eyes and hands clutched into angry fists, and sighed as she scooted up next to him by the willow tree. Peter's head was now buried in his hands to hide his face, tears falling onto the dirt beneath him where he couldn't conceal them. She reached over and gently pushed his tangled hair out from his face with care, trying to get him to look at her. She could help but notice how nice it felt against her fingertips._

_ "Never is a very long time. "_

_ Without warning, he had his arms locked around Wendy's waist as he started to cry softly into her nightgown, holding on to her as if she would just vanish through his arms at any moment. They stayed like this for moments before either of them spoke again._

_ "Please, Wendy," Peter whispered, all ferocity gone within his voice as the sweet, whimsical boy she knew surfaced. "Don't go."_

_ Wendy's own eyes began to dampen as she put her own arms around him, stroking his head comfortingly as the two just holding one another together in fear one of them might shatter before the next. The decision to go was hard for Wendy, but she had her life back in England waiting for her. And Michael and John had only barely begun discovering what their lives were about; Wendy simply couldn't deprive them of that. It was the grown-up thing to do._

_ "So, are we staying, Wendy?" John called hopefully from behind the tree, making Wendy loosen her grip on Peter who threw John a nasty look before looking back hopefully at Wendy for her answer._

_ She sighed again, knowing that she still had to go back to her mother and her father no matter how much it broke her heart to leave Neverland. Looking at the expression on Peter's face didn't help her, either; hope filling his always smiling eyes as his mouth moved into its natural grin while he looked at her expectantly, waiting for her answer. "Just grab Michael, John. I'll be there in a few minutes." She responded, watching John hurry off to find his wandering brother within the surrounding jungle with hunched shoulders, obviously disappointed. _

_ "You're still going." Peter murmured, tearing himself away from Wendy's grasp gently, his eyes falling to the mossy ground which surrounded them. _

_ She reached out a hand and lifted his chin up to her, his eyes meeting hers with defeated sadness. "You know what my father would do before he went out on long trips for business? He would always give me his pocket watch and told me to keep it while he was away. And do you know why it made me feel better?" Peter shook his head, hair bouncing wildly in-front of his face, "Because it was something of his; something that was a part of him I could hold and have with me where ever I was."_

_ Wendy then took the thimble that was resting in her nightgown pocket and set it in the middle of her palm before Peter. She tore a loose thread from her nightgown and tied it tightly through a hole that had rusted through the dull metal. Leaning forward towards Peter, she fastened the thimble around his neck carefully before resting it against his chest._

_ "Here, keep my kiss," she insisted, watching how it hung from his neck delicately. "As long as you keep it with you, I'll never be too far away."_

_ Peter held the kiss in his hand, admiring the glimmer it gave as he watched it. He set it back down on his chest and started to do something similar; he picked up a green acorn that rested by his feet and tore a skinny vine off the tree. Using his knife, he stabbed a hole right in the middle of the acorn and pushed the vine through like a kind of string. He kneeled over to Wendy and tied the thing to her neck gingerly._

_ "This is my kiss. This belongs to you, and always will"_

_ Silence hung in the air after that, both of them held each of their kisses in their hands with admiration. Before she could even meet his eyes again, she leaned over and hugged Peter tightly as if he'd float away. It took a moment for Peter to realize what she was doing, but he awkwardly placed his hands around her as he buried his face into the curls of her hair._

_ "I'll never, never forget you, Peter Pan." She whispered into his neck, trying as hard as she could not to stumble over her words. Silence had broken between them, but neither of them minded. This was the moment just to record every little thing before they were both gone from each other._

_ He ran his free hand over a strand of her hair, trying as hard as he could to remember the feel of it before she left. "Never is a very long time."_


	2. Chapter 1 : A Very Long Time

Chapter 1: A Very Long Time

Flipping through the pages of an old, tattered volume of 'The Complete Works of Dickens', Wendy Darling sat behind the book shop's counter with a sleepy expression written upon her face, clearly struggling to stay awake with her drooping eyelids. Her free hand tangled in her long, tangled hair which curled over her shoulder, playing with the few loose locks that she had braided minutes before as she skimmed over _A Christmas Carol_ lazily, having read the copy dozens of times before. No one had wondered into the shop all afternoon and Wendy's usual routine of reading over every copy within her reach had settled in along with the hazy, early morning light that paned its way through stained glasses windows. The nostalgia of an old book crinkling between her fingers never ceased to make her forget about life here in dreary London, taking her to places and adventures she could only dream of going on. But, they were just dreams; nothing more.

Wendy sighed heavily, stretching her back like a sleepy cat as she sat propped up on a high stool behind a tall wooden counter. She readjusted her skirts which had become tangled in-between her crossed legs and rolled up the long sleeves of her bodice due to the lack of fresh air circulating through the book store. As she rolled up her left sleeve higher, the ink well sitting in front of her neatly organized stack of store records tipped over, emptying the slick, black ink all the way down the front of her dress.

"Bollocks. Not again." She began, her words like another heavy sigh escaping her lips.

Unrushed, she dug her handkerchief out of her dress pocket and began to blot out the mess delicately. She had only borrowed this dress from her mother this morning and she had already ruined it beyond comprehension; the black ugly stains making her look like she belonged in an oil mill rather than a book shop.

"Mother will surely hang me for this." She whispered to herself, giving up on trying to salvage the silken fabric she wore by setting the handkerchief down by the spilt ink well.

"I bet you she would."

Wendy looked up from her soiled dress to see her boss, Mrs. Adams, standing over the counter like a vulture, eyes aflame with anger and loathing. Her wire-rimmed glasses were perched on the tip of her small, pointed nose like a bird, her nostrils flaring with anger. There was something about this woman that Wendy thought familiar, but the thought always escaped her when she thought about it too hard.

"H-hello, Mrs. Adams," Wendy muttered, tripping over her words to much of her discontent. "How are you thing fine morning?"

"Oh, don't you try to act like that innocent little girl I thought you were when I hired you. You know, you are really nothing like the young, educated woman I thought you were. Lucky I don't fire you for nodding off and ruining my business." Her voice was hoarse with years' worth of tobacco smoking and heavy scotch usage. Her greying hair was pulled painfully away from her face into a tight bun, making her face appear to have dangerously sharp angles and contours. Everything about this woman repelled Wendy. Grown adults just didn't have that appeal that she thought they had when she was younger.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Adams," Wendy said through clutched teeth, her hands forming into fists underneath the counter. "It won't happen again."

The odd woman laughed a cold, striking laugh. "It better not happen again, my dear, or I'll make sure you won't get another job in a book shop in London."

Mrs. Adams walked away from the counter and shuffled over to the back room. Wendy could finally breathe again, her fists unclenching and relaxing against the tension she had built up. She needed this job and she would just have to gain Mrs. Adams favor once more to continue to work with the one thing she held closest to her heart; books. Ever since her father died, things had just been difficult. Michael died before her father, contracting a deathly case of measles and passing on just when she was fifteen and John had moved away to the Americas to become a film-maker. All who was left of the Darling clan in England was Wendy and her mother, who was past her prime and couldn't work to help Wendy pay the taxes and the bills to keep their family house theirs. Wendy found this job out of a favor of her mother's old friend, and she was grateful for the freedom it gave her to be around the things she loved. Being the only source of income, alongside her second job as a seamstress, she had to keep the jobs she had now to support her family; at least what was left of it.

Resting her head in her palms, she closed her eyes and wished she could be somewhere else rather than here. Maybe in America with John or reading books somewhere in India where adventure was practically brimming through every pore of that country, that's where she would go. Anywhere but London where she was stuck with the reality of life as a growing young woman, only seventeen and the hardships of life had already taken a toll on her youth and care-free nature.

"I wish I were small again." She whispered, closing her eyes even tighter as she spoke. "I wish I could never grow up."

"I wish I could've heard you say that a long time ago."

Wendy looked up from her hands and saw a silhouette in the door way, the early morning light blinding Wendy from getting a good look at the man's face. She could see the outline of a tattered suit and worn in shoes, no doubt a customer.

"Good day, sir. Welcome to Adams and Sons Literacy Company." She said in a monotone fashion despite Mrs. Adams expectations of her work ethic.

The man walked, actually ran, over to the counter where she was sitting and startled Wendy, making her jump as his hands slammed the sleek wooden surface of the counter. For the first time he could see the features of his face, the face of a man probably not a year or two older than herself.

"Excuse me." She acknowledged. "Are you feeling alright, sir?"

"Wendy," The man said, his eyes growing wide as they urgently searched her face. "You're old!"

Taken back by the comment, Wendy got down from her stool, cracking her sore back in-between steps, and began to walk towards Mrs. Adams office to report the strange man.

"No, no, no! I'm sorry! Wendy, don't you recognize me! It's me." He said, his smooth voice on the verge of hysterics. "Please tell me you remember me, Wendy. Please."

"I'm sorry." She responded. Thoughts of maybe ringing up the mental asylum scattered around in her head as she tried to make her way to Mrs. Adams.

"No!" The man grabbed her arm, pulling her in closer to him. "Just look at me Wendy. Just look at me for a moment."

She tried to wring free of the iron grip the man had on her to no avail and hope of escaping, so she decided to do what he said and look at this crazed lunatic if it could give her a few moments to think about how to get free. She met his eyes first, wild and darting between each of her eyes like his life depended on it, but a deep shade of brown that seemed to melt every time his eyes flickered towards hers. His face seemed very elfish; high cheekbones framing a very angular face which mirrored an illustration in a book she once read about fairy lore and fantasy stories, all practically matching his face and the way he moved about nervously. Aside from his worn-in clothing, she would have taken him as a beggar on the street, but he just seemed to be out of place in this clothing. Something about this man seemed familiar, like when you wake from a dream and the recollection of it is fleeting away from you. Something about the way he said her name, how he talked, how he acted so elaborately and fluidly; it was like she'd met him in her daydreams.

"Who are you?"

The man sighed a sigh of relief. "You remember me."

"No, wait. Your face is familiar, but I don't think I've met you before. I'm sorry, I truly am; do you want me to call you up a cabby to take to you the half-way house? It's just down the street." She offered, gesturing to the phone that hung on the wall. She pried herself out of the man's grasp and began to walk toward the phone when he spoke.

"You don't remember anything about Neverland, do you?"

Wendy stopped dead in her tracks, frozen in fear and utter disbelief. Slowly she turned to face him and walked towards him, cautious and careful.

"H-how do you-u know about t-that?" She stuttered, memories flooding through her mind about the countless hours spent in therapy and psychoanalysis sessions throughout the years regarding that place, that fantastical, made-up place that existed only within the realms of her mind.

"Because it's real. Wendy, everything that you remember about me, Neverland, the Lost Boys; it's all real. Forget everything the grown-ups told you. Just remember what's real and what's really, really real."

It slowly began to make sense; memories of mermaids, fairies, pirates, adventures beyond adult comprehension, and the Lost Boys filled her head till it began to spin like a top, whirling around and around with no sign of stopping. In her daze, she caught a glimpse of something hanging around the man's neck, something that gleamed a metallic sheen in the light. It was a thimble.

Losing her sense of balance, she began to fall before the man caught her and set her down gentling, cradling her head in his lap protectively.

"Peter," Tears welled up in Wendy's eyes. "You finally found me."

Peter smiled a toothy grin and ran a hand through his hair boyishly.

"Never seems to be not a very long time at all," He murmured, staring back into Wendy's eyes harmoniously. "I've been looking for you for so long now and I've finally found you."


End file.
